


Late Bloom

by wanderlustt



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustt/pseuds/wanderlustt
Summary: Don't blink. You're almost always guaranteed to miss something. Pre-canon.





	1. Chapter 1

1

_Blink_

* * *

 

If I have to say one thing about life, it'd be  _never blink_.

You are almost always guaranteed to miss something.

Our world is feudal. There's this constant war, even when we're not fighting. Madara once told me it was too complex to explain, even for men of his nature, but to be honest -- I'm not really interested anymore.

In the war, I mean. I think I have enough blood on my hands.

But you don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to listen. Listen, and just hear me out on this one. I promise I won't shove my convictions down your throat, and I promise there are no ulterior motives here. (That's always been more of Mito's style, anyway.)

Oh, but.

Trust me on the blinking thing.

* * *

"You look stupid."

Madara sneered, while his helpers clothed him in his war attire, "This armor was passed down from my great-grandfather."

I shrugged, "So looking stupid runs in your family."

"Ironic, considering the fact that we come from the same family," he snapped. "Lest you forget your surname is also  _Uchiha_?"

"Same surname, different family trees," I pointed out.

Madara shot me a glare that probably could've (and would've) killed a man and I smiled apologetically, taking a seat near the windowsill and letting my hand rest on my lower abdomen while I observed him from a small distance, "Is black your favorite color or something?"

"This is war—not a fashion show," he answered stiffly, lifting his arms up as the pieces of armor clinked into place.

I frowned, glancing down at my plain gray kimono wrapped at the waist with a loose white  _obi_. They were designated garbs for the caretakers of the clan. If I had the money and the choice, I'd be perusing the compound in cobalt blues and fire reds—but dreams were only dreams and sometimes they were better off staying that way. In the end, I didn't choose this life—I was born into it. And somewhere down the line, I'd made peace with it. Kimonos were only kimonos, after all—nothing but pieces of pretty decoration. Gray wasn't such a bad color anyway.

My hand hovered over my lower stomach, as Madara's helpers left the room. The doors slid shut behind them and I shifted my gaze to the war-clad shinobi, who was staring himself over in the mirror.

"Is there something you need?" He asked.

I shifted my gaze from his reflection to the portrait of a ship caught in a storm that was mounted on his wall, "Actually—"

I paused.

Maybe not today.

Not yet, anyway.

"I just wanted to bid you goodbye," I said. "You know, for good measure. In case you don't come back or something."

"That seems uncharacteristic of you," Madara looked only mildly displeased by the quip, but he didn't remove his gaze from the mirror either. "Your lack of faith in me is disturbing."

It was a half-assed answer so I should've expected an answer like that.

The timing was just off. Saying it now felt contrived, forced even.

Maybe I'll wait for tomorrow. If tomorrow never comes.

"I'll be at the training grounds," he stated.

The war wouldn't start for another month and these next few weeks would be dedicated to getting the troops in shape. I didn't like being cooped up in the compound anyway, so I'd probably find an excuse to go visit the training grounds whenever I could.

"Okay," I replied softly.

If Madara weren't so preoccupied with the upcoming war, I wouldn't even hesitate to tell him what was wrong right then and there. But there were matters outside myself that were important to the clan and this might've just been a triviality that could cost him his life. A triviality that could cost  _my life_.

The last thing I needed was Madara in the fight of his life, only to have him distracted by the news that could potentially end his political career.

I tried not to shudder at the thought.

I stood up and walked up next to him, "Don't die, okay?"

It was only here that he finally tore his attention away from his reflection in the mirror

Madara patted the top of my head and smirked, "I won't."

* * *

I reached the courtyard of the Uchiha compound, feeling completely overwhelmed by nausea.

I squatted down, and rocked back and forth, trying to grasp some kind of solace in the fact that Madara would be better off in the battlefield without knowing—I was trying to rationalize my actions. Rationalize my silence.

"You didn't tell him."

Izuna approached me from the opposite end of the corridor, leaning against the balcony separating the courtyard from the compound, "You know, this is the sort of thing that matters to his career."

"I _know_ ," I admitted a bit reluctantly, "but this is also the kind of thing that would ruin him."

And the word I didn't say:  _forever_.

There was a short pause.

Izuna looked like he was mulling over something. Then again, it was difficult to actually decipher what he was thinking. He didn't often meddle in his brother's personal life. It'd become a bit of a taboo topic, ever since Takada (but that was a story to be told another day). For a while, I actually convinced myself that this would be one secret that would pass off as irrelevant. One secret I could try and bury inside myself. But then again, I'd always been naïve. Madara would have to know the truth, sooner or later, and I was the only one who could tell him.

A stupid,  _stupid_  girl.

"Nii-san couldn't care less about what people think of him," Izuna stated, "as much as you think he wants to rise in the ranks, there's a part of him that would give it up with no qualms."

The idea made me laugh. Madara. Giving up his ambitions for the sake of some girl.

Some stupid,  _stupid_  girl.

I pursed my lips, "I don't want him to even fathom the thought of giving up all he's worked for. I want to see him succeed. And if that means I have to take the fall, I'm okay with that."

"Hm. That's noble, but if you wanted to be a martyr, you should've kept your feelings to yourself before all this happened," he stated, "then you wouldn't be in this position at all."

It was a difficult pill to swallow, but he was right. If I had just kept my big mouth shut—if I had just followed my obligations and listened to my mother, I wouldn't be here in the first place. Feelings were messy, even more so when it involved someone like Uchiha Madara.

"Hindsight is a bitch," I admitted.

Even though the pain and burden could be hard to bear, I forced myself up onto my feet. The skin around my ankles were stretched taut. Completely swollen.

I averted my absentminded gaze from my feet to Izuna, who was leaning casually against the balcony ledge with his arms crossed over his chest.

I relented a soft sigh, turning my heel.

"I'll be off," I said, waving my hand, noncommittally. "Chiaki wouldn't have it if she caught me in the corridors like this."

But.

I hesitated before I could take my first step, "You know how Madara said there was a faint smell of fruit before death?"

"What about it?" Izuna seemed only moderately interested in what I had to say.

I half-laughed, brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear, "Nothing."

I peered over the canopy to see the sky painted a brilliant shade of navy blue. Stars blinked and—for a fleeting moment—I was content. This wasn't the kind of conversation I wanted to have with Izuna, but it was the kind of conversation that I needed to have. A sort of coming to terms with reality, I suppose. I felt comfort knowing that I wasn't alone. Izuna always pressed the questions that no one else really bothered to ask.

"Madara has never given me a reason to doubt him," I figured there was no harm in telling him. "I'll tell him, when the time comes. And if he doesn't want it, that's fine with me. It's not like I'm helpless, in this situation."

I took a step forward—paused, and looked over my shoulder and shot Izuna the best smile I could manage in this circumstance, "Maybe the kitchen is making apple pie tonight. Kind of smells like it."

* * *

The training camps weren't far from our compound.

It took some patient waiting in my bedroom until Chiaki left to her own quarters before I headed out. Security was light during times like this and it wasn't long until I managed to escape the gates of our compound.

It must've taken me roughly three circles around our gates before I realized our camp was probably hidden until some genjutsu. The Uchiha clan wouldn't be the Uchiha clan if it didn't constantly supervise every waking detail until the watchful gaze of an illusory eye. By the time I reached my forth circle, a guard emerged from the shadows. I explained to him who I was and that I was given orders from the elders to give Madara his honorary war obi. A white lie but he recognized me as Madara's caretaker, did a general scan with his activated  _sharingan_ , and let me in, albeit with reluctance and distaste.

(He probably knew exactly who I was.)

I followed him through the folds of the illusion and caught sight of Madara immediately.

He was directing a young man, who wouldn't have been more than 11, to keep track of the inventory of weapons in a nearby tent. Eleven and ready to fight on the front-lines. Eleven, and ready to give his life to a war that he probably didn't understand yet.

I looked up to the sky.

* * *

When I was nine, I found a robin. A pretty, red robin. Her nest was right outside my windowpane and her eggs were bright blue—blue as the sky.

A blue jay appeared one day and discovered the nest. I was under the stupid impression that he'd fall in love with the robin and it'd be some grand love story that transcended nature.

But instead, he devoured the eggs in her nest and flew off into the sky.

Almost like he was never there at all.

When the robin came home, she let out a terrible cry of despair.

She circled her nest for two days before she starved herself and died.

* * *

I watched in horror as the sky exploded from above.

My ears were ringing.

It was hard for me to make sense of where I was. All I could tell was that I was lodged inside a pile of gravel. There were groans from all around me but I couldn't make sense of anything except the constant ringing inside my ears.

I tried to push myself out, but I ended up collapsing over the side of the gravel pile and hitting the ground below with a light thump. A couple metal rods clattered next to me and I covered my ears with my hands.

To my horror, as I looked down to my feet, I was bleeding.

Desperate to find the source of the wound, I groped my entire body, kneeling into the dirt.

I wouldn't even care if it were my legs. Or my arms. Or even my head.

Rational thoughts.  _Rational thoughts_.

Hot, fat globs of tears began to form as I came to the realization that the dark river of red was coming from between my legs. It became more and more difficult to even see behind the veil of tears, but still, I tried my hardest to make sense of what was happening. To make sense of  _why_  this was happening.

At once, everything began to shake. My hands trembled violently, and in a desperate attempt to quell this fidgeting, I ended nicking myself in the eye with my fingernails. My hands were sweaty and I tried to clear my head for a relevant thought—something,  _something_  to make sense of all of this.

"Please let this be a dream," I whispered.

Rational thoughts,  _rational thoughts_.

I couldn't breathe.

_Help_ , I tried to cry out. But instead, I collapsed and let the darkness consume me.

* * *

"Senbi?"

I clenched my fists.

" _Senbi!_ "

Shut my eyes.

"Where are you hurt?"

Tried to breathe.

"Where are you bleeding?"

The first thing I heard was the clink of armor as Madara kneeled down in front of me. It took me a moment to compose myself before I could even open my eyes and look at him.

What was this feeling of total shame and embarrassment?

Why did I suddenly feel so small in comparison?

"Where are you injured?" He asked, putting his hands on my shoulders.

From head to toe, he was dressed in black. Black like the sky.

There was another clink as he shifted his gaze across the barren field, littered with bodies and blood. Another clink in the armor as he looked back to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his shoulder, resisting the urge to completely unravel and break down in his chest. (It was habit at this point, wasn't it?)

I closed my eyes. Clenched my fists.

_Don't cry_.

_Don't cry_.

I hated seeing him like this. I  _hated_  seeing him in his armor. I knew it was an inevitability, but every time he put on his war attire, it was another reminder that I might never see him again.

_Don't cry_.

And this. This shouldn't have even mattered to me. How could I be so upset over something so stupid? How could I be so upset over something I never even wanted in the first place?

How could I be upset over something I wasn't supposed to have at all?

The stinging scent of apples that was so apparent earlier was only remote and distant now.

"I was pregnant," I said.

Madara paused. Hesitated, almost.

It was the closest thing to disbelief I could ever see him wear on his face.

"Was?" His breath hitched.

I stifled a sob and felt the hot, wet tears stream down the side of my face, "I'm having a miscarriage."

He shifted his gaze to the pool of blood on the lap of my kimono.

_Don't cry_.

I clenched my fists, "It was yours."

Madara pulled me into his arms.

All I could see was the sky from over his shoulder—the thick, black sky with all the stars blinking right back.

* * *

— **three years ago**.

* * *

The Uchiha Clan is the greatest clan in the world.

People were dying. Everyday. Sort of like battle royale with royal families playing the cards. And we always won. That's why we were so renowned. That's why we were so revered.

That's why we were so feared.

Our current leader is Uchiha Madara. He only recently came to power after Daisuke-sama. No one really knew what happened to him but no one seemed to really care to investigate either. Everyone was too preoccupied with the new leader to really give thought to the past.

Kaa-san was Madara's primary caretaker. Assistant. Helper. Whatever you wish to call it.

So it was only natural for our paths to cross eventually.

* * *

The door to Madara's office burst open.

She had to be around my age: dark-haired and fair-eyed.

Tears poured down her face and her cheeks were tinged a pink. As soon as she caught sight of me, the bowl in her grasp slipped and clattered to the ground, breaking into a dozen pieces. I opened my mouth to say something but before I could, she ran off in the opposite direction and disappeared down the corridor.

I stared into Madara's office to see him signing papers, documents poured over his desk in neat piles. He looked up and caught my gaze.

"Close the door," he stated coolly, shifting his gaze back to his papers.

There was an awful rumor that went around overstating Uchiha Madara's temper. I wasn't really sure where the rumor came from but it was always something that was just...accepted. Girls in my corridor liked to gossip about him. They called him a picky perfectionist. The men called him a tyrant warlord, and a fearful leader. The children called him a monster.

Kaa-san recently fell ill.

When she was Madara's caretaker, he didn't dare challenge her.

Kaa-san had me when she was in her forties, which made me what they called a late blossom.

With Kaa-san ill, the prospective caretakers in line took her place.

It wasn't much to be proud of, I suppose. Initially, I believed it would be some kind of honor to serve the leader of our clan but after a few weeks of careful and happenstance inspection, I came to the conclusion that Madara wasn't  _that_  kind of leader. He never cared much for triviality and small talk, anyway, so I shouldn't have been surprised.

Unlike most caretakers, I wasn't assigned to anyone. I drifted between the kitchen staff and the postal workers.

Kaa-san always insisted that she wanted me to be Izuna's caretaker but that never quite worked out the way she planned (he and I never actually met in person)

"Nice job," I stated. "That must be the fifth girl this week you've scared away."

Madara didn't even bother looking up from his paperwork, "Sixth, actually."

It took me a moment to register his response. But eventually, I slid the door shut. My fingers lingered on the knob for a moment before I turned to the broken pieces littered on the floor.

I knelt down and started to pick them up.


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're bleeding on my carpet, you idiot."

"Crap."

I winced, nicking myself in the finger with one particularly sharp piece.

It was a minor cut, nothing too serious, but enough to make the blood drip down my wrist and onto my arm. I groaned, licking the stream from the source of the wound, trying to clean myself up.

* * *

I entered the kitchen and discarded the broken pieces into the trash.

The head chef, Mizuna, looked up from her prep work, an array of finely chopped onions and tomatoes sitting on her cutting board.

She sighed softly, "He really had to  _break_  the bowl?"

I looked through the cabinets for some bandages, "It wasn't him."

"Was it the girl?  _Tch_ ," Mizuna wrinkled her nose and motioned to the second cabinet on the left with her cutting knife, "I should've expected so. Two left feet—that one."

"It wasn't her fault," I said.

"That's coming straight out of her paycheck," she snapped, ignoring me.

I frowned.  _Cut her some slack. She's had a rough day_ , I wanted to say.

But confrontation wasn't quite my forte so I shut my mouth and shifted my gaze to the open cupboards above my head that she motioned to with her knife earlier—I made a quick scan.

Ah, no luck. No bandages were to be found.

"I'll be off," I said, trying to stay nonchalant. "My mother is probably looking for me to bring her afternoon tea."

* * *

A white lie.

But to be fair, I wasn't looking for any daylong commitments and the best way I knew to slack off without being reprimanded was to find someone to play chess with me. Usually an elder, or kid. That way, I could operate under the pretense of keeping someone company, or taking care of someone. Basically what my job is.

Knowing Kumi-sensei, my teacher from elementary school, he was probably lurking in the courtyard or sneaking around in the adult section of our library.

So finding a target was relatively simple.

Now, I could at least pretend I was busy without actually feeling burdened.

Because I  _liked_  chess. I was  _good_  at chess.

To be fair, I wasn't good at many things otherwise. In fact, there was little I excelled in. I was too frail to be a fighter, too  _feminine_  to work in a political society dominated by men.

(Which was honestly a shame because I was really never given a chance to succeed in the first place)

But I suppose it wasn't too bad. I didn't mind living a simple life of certainty.

* * *

"Checkmate," I grinned, moving my queen forward two spaces, "want to play again?"

Kumi-sensei sighed softly, the corners of his wrinkled lips curving up to form the faintest smile, "We've already played three games. Haven't you had enough?"

"C'mon,  _sensei_. It's good for your mind," I tried to say without being too overbearing. "I'm doing you a favor. Keeping your brain active. Making you think. Besides, you don't have anything else to do, right?"

"That's awfully presumptuous of you," he replied. "You do realize I have work to do in the library."

"We both know what kind of perverted research you're doing in the adult section," I muttered under my breath.

"Hm?" He asked. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing," I shot him a smile.

" _Hey, let me have a go at this game,_ " a voice interrupted.

I blinked.

I wasn't really sure where Madara's younger brother came from.

I honestly didn't sense him at all. And I swear, I only realized he had appeared when he manifested behind Kumi-sensei.

He was tall, but not as tall as his elder brother. He was probably a bit leaner, too. He had short hair but his features were far more jarring.

A defined chin with a pair of pretty, almost feminine eyes. In other words, he was a pretty boy. A pretty boy with a cute little cocky smirk on his face.

A smirk I wanted to rip apart.

Kumi-sensei's eyes widened, suddenly realizing his place and moving out of the way so the younger Uchiha behind him could take a seat, "Izuna-sama."

I pursed my lips and tried not to frown as he took a seat down in front of me, "Drop the honorific, sensei. Izuna is fine."

"Your name?" He asked.

"…Senbi," I replied, a bit reluctantly.

"I'm Izuna," he stated, putting the chess pieces back in place.

"So I've heard," I hadn't meant to reply aloud but it was one of those things I didn't think through.

He paused, only briefly, fingers grazing over the head of a knight before continuing to move the pieces back onto their respective tiles.

Without looking at me, he asked, "So what exactly have you heard?"

"...things."

I kept my gaze fixated on him, while he started to line up the king and queen. A row of pawns. Behind them was the backline. The rooks, knights, bishops, king and queen.

"Unwilling to talk, huh." Izuna looked mildly intrigued, raising his gaze to meet mine once all the pieces were settled, "How about this? If I win, you tell me what you've heard. And if I win, I'll…"

He paused for a moment, arching a brow, "Well, what do you want to know?"

I could've said anything, really.

I could've asked him about Madara, the constant topic of discussion within our clan. There were so many rumors floating around and I could've asked him to confirm any of them.  _Not interested._

Or I could've asked him about the simple things. His likes, dislikes, the girls he's been with, the food he likes, the places he's travelled. Something intimate, something personal.  _Not interested, either_.

I could've asked him about the secrets locked away inside our clan, or the hidden passageways in the basement that have since been closed up.  _Sort of interested_.

I could've asked him about the future—I could ask him about his hatred for the Senju clan, and Madara's ill-fated relationship with Hashirama.  _Pretty damn interested._

"I'll think of something when we're done," I said.

Another lie. I already knew what I wanted to know.

But I didn't want him to dwell and have time to mull over a response that was politically correct.

I wanted an honest answer.

"You're white," I said, "you go first."

* * *

"Checkmate."

I leaned back into my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.

It'd been a game that took nearly twenty minutes to finish and my neck felt stiff, so I stretched back and felt my skin stretch taut.

Ah. I really needed to work on my posture.

It was a game that took longer than I would've liked but getting the win was the only thing that really mattered to me.

Izuna smiled sheepishly, "Chess was never really my forte."

 _That's reassuring…since you're our clan's tactician and right hand_  I thought, unable to hide the grimace on my face.

"What is?" I asked. "Fighting?"

"You could say that," he replied, leaning forward to put the pieces back into place, "Although I'd argue that that's probably Madara's forte."

" _Madara_?" I echoed his older brother's name, "You don't call him  _nii-san_?"

He kept his gaze fixated on the chess pieces in front of him, "So what do you want to know?"

So he didn't want to talk about it. No matter.

It wasn't something I really gave much thought to. Just something I thought was a bit strange. Rarely did siblings address each other by their first names.

" _I heard from Mizuna you were supposed to bring my tea half an hour ago_."

I shuddered.

From the sound of the voice alone, I knew it was Kaa-san. Standing over me.

Her shadow looming over the chessboard between me and Izuna.

"Ah, Kiyo- _baachan_ ," Izuna smiled up at her, "I was just telling Senbi-chan what a good chess player she is. I'm pretty new to it, so she's still showing me the ropes."

A lie, another lie and another lie.

Senbi- _chan_?

I wanted to roll my eyes.

Addressing me like we're so familiar when we were nothing but strangers.

And  _as if_  he were new to chess. How would our clan's leading tactician not know how to play the one game that relied on cleverness and tact?

Don't even get me started on his last lie.  _Showing me the ropes_. It was all so contrived, and Kaa-san would never buy it.

"Was she now?" Kaa-san looked skeptical. "Perhaps, she could show me my kettle of tea that she was supposed to bring?"

I resisted the urge to groan audibly, feeling embarrassed by the sudden turn of events.

I hadn't been able to ask my question and I was being reprimanded by my  _freaking_  mother in front of Izuna.

"We'll have another lesson tomorrow, right?" He stood up and shot a wink in my direction, a half smile on his face. "I think I'm picking it up pretty quickly.

I stood up and bowed reluctantly, bidding goodbye to Izuna.

Once he disappeared down the corridor, Kaa-san turned to me, looking completely unimpressed, "You could've ended two turns earlier."

I opened my mouth to protest but as I ran over the last few moves in my mind, I realized she was right.

Maybe I could've cracked a joke and called her the  _true sensei_ , but she didn't like trivialities, so I kept my mouth shut.

I linked arms with Kaa-san, heading towards the corridor.

Hm. Maybe I was getting rusty.

* * *

"You really shouldn't be out of bed," I said sternly, kneeling besides Kaa-san's futon.

She was sitting up and I handed her a warm cup of tea that I picked up quickly from the kitchen after the little skirmish in the courtyard with Izuna.

She paused, momentarily, didn't drink, and placed the cup of tea on the ground next to her futon.

I tried not to frown.

"Madara's already scared off the fifth girl this week," she stated dispassionately.

"Sixth, actually," I corrected.

Another something I meant to keep to myself but ended up slipping through.

I bit my lower lip.

Kaa-san stared at me in confusion, with one eyebrow arched up. But she didn't say much.

The door to her room slid open and in walked Kaminori, a childhood friend of mine, dressed head to toe in black, which meant he was about to head out on his next mission.

His hair was rustled, like he hadn't seen the end of a brush for days, and from the little smile on his face, he looked like he had good news to present.

"Kaminori- _kun_ ," my voice was low—a half whisper, which probably gave off the impression that I was breathless.

But I swear it was because I was surprised. The more I thought about it, the hotter my face felt. I looked away from him immediately.

"Didn't I teach you how to knock?" Kaa-san snapped.

Kaminori was handsome (then again, most Uchiha men were).

I think, in another life, he would've been as strong as Madara had it not been for his health.

He didn't have the biggest chakra pool and he was a bit frailer than the rest of our clan. But what he lacked in strength, he made up for in wits and cleverness.

Still, he'd yet to beat me in a game of chess. The thought made me smile, if only for a little while.

"Apologies for interrupting," he said. "I just wanted to bid farewell before I head out on a mission tonight."

"Another mission?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "You just got back from a mission yesterday, didn't you?"

"Don't worry your little heart over me," he teased, a wry smile forming on his face, "the mission is relatively simple. Shouldn't take more than a day before I'm back."

"When you say it like that, it only makes me worry more," I replied.

"I'll remember that next time I tell you," he said, putting on a smile.

I blushed.

We grew up together when we were young.

His parents died early on, so Kaa-san took him under her wing.

I suppose I saw him like an elder brother back then, but things were different now. He'd grown up quite a bit and we spent more time apart the more and more the clan called him out for missions.

I suppose I was always a bit jealous that he was born in this position of opportunity.

Being a man could do wonders in the Uchiha clan.

I shook the thought off.

We'd grown apart but he'd always find time to visit me and Kaa-san.

And even though we didn't see each other as often anymore, I felt like nothing really changed between us. He had bigger, better things to move onto. And a girl like me could dream, I suppose.

"We miss you at our weekly clan meetings," Kaminori looked at Kaa-san, "it's not quite the same without you minding the young ones."

"Your flattery is meaningless to me," was Kaa-san's stern reply, her lips curving into the faintest semblance of a smile, "you  _fool_."

Ever since Kaminori-kun started working over time on missions and getting more involved on the frontlines, I began to worry.

I suppose that might've been the logic behind my wanting to live a normal,  _average_  life. It was so I could take care of him.

"Of course, of course," he said, "anyway, I'll be off."

He waved his hand noncommittally in the air, "I'll be seeing you," he looked at me, " _ja ne—_ Senbi."

I smiled as the door slid shut behind him.

"Get your head out of the clouds," Kaa-san snapped, flicking me on the side of the head.

A sweat drop slid down the side of my face and I felt the heat rising on my face.

Of course, I could protest but Kaa-san wasn't  _that_  kind of person and there wasn't much I could say without raising suspicions about me and Kaminori, so I kneeled down next to her futon once more and gave her a briefing on what was happening lately in the Uchiha compound.

Although I already had a sinking suspicion that she already knew what was happening— _what_ , with the way she talked about Madara before.

Kaa-san hated being bed-ridden. She hated feeling useless.

"It's time for you to take over my duties," she said. "Starting today, you'll be watching over Madara."

I blinked.

A pause—I tried to mask the blatant surprise that was probably written all over my face.

I mean, I should've expected something like this. But still.

I didn't expect these obligations to come so  _soon_.

She laughed, but that laugh soon turned into an uncontrollable cough.

Reaching out for the cup of tea next to her futon, she took a sip, quelling the cough, "I've already recommended you to the elders."

"Without asking me?" I snapped.

" _Idiot_ ," she shot a glare at me, "as if I need the permission of a  _child_."

"I'm 17," I protested, "I'm hardly a child anymore."

"Then start acting like an adult," she replied. "And watch your defiance. Because it tends to give the impression that you're a lot dumber than you are."

"I'm not dumb."

"Only dumb people blatantly deny the fact that they're dumb," Kaa-san stated.

I wrinkled my nose.

Sometimes, it was difficult to gauge her reactions and it was even more difficult to forgive her but even I had to admit she had the right intentions in mind.

Her stubbornness made her hard to deal with and when I was younger, we'd clash far more often because of stupid, trivial things.

Now that I was older and a little bit wiser, we'd clash only over our different philosophies.

We didn't agree on much, but she was my mother, so I couldn't hold a grudge.

But it'd always somehow resort to her favorite response: "stop being a child" or some derivative of it.

And it always ended up with me retreating with my tail between my legs.

_Respect your elders._

_Keep your mind clear._

_Rational thoughts, rational thoughts_.

"Be stern with him," she said, "and don't let him take advantage of you."

The thought made me want to laugh.

Silently, I stood up and headed towards the exit, "Anything else?"

Kaa-san was silent. I paused by the open doorway, waited a moment.

Still, there was only silence that followed so I left without another word, sliding the door shut as hard as I could on the way out.

* * *

I waited outside Madara's office. A minute passed. Two minutes.

Three.

I couldn't help it. I was anxious.  _Nervous_.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, redwood frame of his doorway, teetering back and forth on my feet.

I knew I wasn't being discreet and some part of me hoped that someone would notice and ask if I were okay, just so I could buy some more time away from actually entering.

Because on the other side of the door was Uchiha Madara.

Uchiha Madara and his big, hulking ego.

Uchiha Madara who'd scared off six girls in the span of a week.

Uchiha Madara, who could probably break my spine without giving it a second thought if I wasn't careful with him.

But still. Even if he was Uchiha Madara, he would never be as frightening as Kaa-san's wrath.

" _Well. How long are you going to wait out there?_ "

I flinched at the sound of his voice, accidentally knocking my head into the frame of the door.

 _What the hell_  I thought bitterly to myself, rubbing my forehead with one hand while I reached for the doorknob with my free hand.

Trying not to look too surprised when I walked in, I took a spot in front of his desk, where he continued signing papers.

He didn't even bother acknowledging my presence.

"What is it?" He asked, completely impassive.

I bit my lower lip.

The truth is, I didn't really know what I was there for. I hadn't been briefed about anything so I didn't really know what to expect.

Did he even need me at all today?

So.

I started with the basics, "I'll be your new caretaker from now on."

Madara continued scribbling away, "And that concerns me?"

 _Well yeah. Didn't I just say I'd be your caretaker? So yeah. It concerns you. What kind of question is that_?  _Baka-yaro_.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that it probably wouldn't help the situation at the rate it was going.

Madara was pretty much everything everyone has ever said.

Intimidating. Unpredictable.

A man with some serious presence.

He had long, thick black hair way past his waist. Much longer than my hair. Instinctively, I reached out and tugged at a lock of my own hair, which barely reached past my shoulders. I never really liked long hair anyway.

And his eyes. They looked tired.  _Indifferent_ , maybe. Like he'd seen his fair share of casualties. Almost like he was unimpressed with the world around him. And why should he be?

"Staring is rude," he said.

I shifted my gaze.

Maybe I  _was_  staring a bit obviously but I couldn't really help it.

I'd never been in such close proximity to him before. At least, not at a point where I could really take a good look at his features.

I'd seen him around the compound from time to time and I saw him in the corridor earlier on where his caretaker dropped the bowl, but even that was just a short glance.

The room was dark—darker than I remembered when I walked in.

A single candle sat on his desk, illuminating the room in soft shades of orange.

I wrinkled my nose, sniffing the air.

Yes, the fire was real, but was the candle there when I walked in?

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" He asked—sort of. It was definitely a question, but the way he asked it came off like a statement. Like he was commanding me to reply.

"Pathetic," he said, "get out of my sight."

The shadows of his room shifted, covering the left half of Madara's face.

It was all very ominous.  _Dark_.

And I honestly wanted nothing more than to run.

 _Run_  because the shadows in the corners of the room started to look like monsters. The monsters I've seen in nightmares long ago.

 _Run_  because the flame on the candle began to burn brighter and bigger.

 _Run_  because the monsters were only growing bigger.

 _Run, run, run_  far away from here.

But.

 _Ah_.

I finally understood now.

It wasn't because of his temper.

There were men and leaders from our clan before him with tempers too so he was far from the first.

He wasn't special.

Uchiha women would never be so quick to concede defeat in the face of such simple adversity. I always wondered how he managed to scare away every single caretaker after Kaa-san and now it all started making sense to me.

It was a matter of presence, really.

"So how far did the last girl get before she realized you put her in a  _genjutsu_?" I asked.

At once, he stopped scribbling.

The room brightened up—suddenly.

The candle on Madara's desk vanished from sight, light flooded into the room, and the shadows disappeared completely.

A goddamn genjutsu.  _Really_.

There were other ways of avoiding confrontation but this was definitely the most creative thing I've seen so far.

"She never noticed," was his curt reply. This time, he met my gaze, "And you?"

"Started feeling something was off when the candle appeared on your desk," I admitted, "but I didn't know it was a genjutsu until you illuminated the wrong side of your face."

A valiant effort, I had to say.

But sometimes, you have to pay attention to the innocuous details too.

He paused, "Who are you?"

"My name is Senbi," I said.

"Kiyo's child?  _Tch_ ," he quipped; he didn't look surprised at all, "I wasn't aware you'd become a caretaker."

Of course I did.

What other choice did I have in this godforsaken clan?

If I had it my way, I wouldn't be here at all. But I learned to accept my fate.

That was the only way I made peace with myself, really.

It took me a moment to digest the fact that Kaa-san had mentioned me to him. That he knew who I was.

But I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised. Our clan was relatively small so pretty much everyone knew of everyone.

Without too much thought, I decided to reply, "Yes, so you better mind what you say since she'll be hearing everything."

He let out a low whistle, "Laying out all your cards on the table already? Stupid. It might end up biting you in the ass."

"I think I can take my chances," I replied.

 _I can tell you a thing or two about being an ass_.

"Why don't you just tell the elders you don't want a caretaker?" I asked, "Why go through all this trouble? Do you really need a genjutsu to do your work?"

"Is that really any of your business?" He asked, shifting his gaze back to his papers.

"I'm just curious," I said.

"Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat," was his response.

It was probably an attempt to sound menacing, but it came off as more cliché and  _trite_  more than anything.

"I've always been more of a dog person anyway," I shot back.

He stopped, only for a moment, before continuing with his stack of papers, "How'd someone like  _you_  end up with a name like  _Senbi_?  _Beauty of a thousand_ , right? That's what it means," there was a pause, where he gave me a glance up and down, "I don't buy it."

I frowned. Two could play at this game, "How'd you end up the leader of our clan? You must be—what—17? Seems kind of young to be leading a warfront.  _I don't buy it_."

It was mimicry at its most juvenile but I just couldn't let him off the hook.

The last thing I needed was Madara stepping over the line and thinking he could take advantage of me forever.

Besides, Kaa-san was right. I couldn't let him take advantage of me.

"You better watch your mouth before I rip out your pretty voice box," he snapped, "and for the record, I'm 18."

Ah. Close enough. He was young, to say the least. And I was only a year behind him.

"Big difference," I said, unable to hide the sarcasm.

I ignored the quip about my voice box because I figured it was for show and up until now, I didn't sense anything  _physically_  threatening about his demeanor.

I suppose we weren't too different, in the end.

Silence.

"Hey." I decided to be as earnest as I could, "I know you probably don't want me here. And that's fine—"

I paused for a moment, "—maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement. So I won't get in your way,"  _or so you won't get in my way_ , "since we're going to be seeing a lot of each other down the line."

Silence.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," I admitted, "and we should start with introductions again—"

"You're bleeding."

I blinked, "Huh?"

"You're bleeding on my carpet, you  _idiot_ ," he motioned to my finger.

Below me, a small puddle of blood was forming on the floor. I laughed nervously at the sight of it, realizing that I'd completely forgotten to bandage it earlier on in the day.

The wound had reopened.

I sighed, "Crap."


	3. The Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senbi throws a shuriken at Izuna. Suffice to say it does not end well.

Izuna and I are standing across from each other.

There's a dent in the wall next to his head with a shuriken stabbed into the wooden panels.

He doesn't look remotely fazed—not even a little bit.

Instead, there's this look of calm on his face, and I'd go as far as to say it might even border on  _amused_. But I'm not too surprised.

He's seen his fair share of battles so that simple shuriken probably meant nothing to him.

On the other hand, I'm about three feet and one second from throwing another shuriken at his head.

If I had another shuriken.

Because he deserves it.

I don't care how high-ranked he might be in the Uchiha clan. I don't care about the fact that he's Madara's younger brother.

None of that matters to me right now.

"Are you satisfied now?" He asks.

I glare.

* * *

Another day, another early morning.

I yawned, stretching my arms out as I made my way from the corridor to the courtyard outside. It was a hot,  _humid_  and misty day.

Izuna was already there, staring at the KIA tablet hanging from the wall of our compound.

It was a large tablet and there were hundreds of names carved into it—names of the soldiers who died on the battlefield, and names of shinobi who were lost in combat on missions outside the gates.

It was a memorial stone and there were a couple of dead bouquets of flowers sitting at the base, petals dry and shriveled up.

Kaa-san told me that the stone used to be some sort of a gathering place for those who loved and lost but after years of constant fighting, people started forgetting about it.

I couldn't even remember the last time they carved a new name into the stone.

I peered over. From what I could tell, Izuna looked like he was always alone.

Despite the bubbly façade, he almost always walked through the corridors by himself.

Whenever I did see him with people, it was usually the Uchiha elders, hoping that they could influence him enough to talk sense into his elder brother, Madara.

Efforts usually made in vain, though.

"You don't have to stare," he said, suddenly, "it's pretty obvious you're right there."

To be honest, I wasn't really surprised. It was his shinobi sixth sense, or so they say.

He still owed me an answer from our chess match the other day.  _What do you want to know_?

I could've asked him anything, really.

But he didn't really look like he was in the mood and I figured I could probably ask him when the setting wasn't so grim.

So without much expectation, I walked up next to him.

I noticed the shuriken that was lying on the ground.

As I was about to reach down and pick it up, Izuna grabbed my wrist, stopping me, "Leave it there," he said.

Ah, so it was probably to honor someone. A sort of parting gift for the KIA tablet.

I pursed my lips and nodded in understanding, "Did you lose someone?"

His gaze lingered on me for a moment.

Then, he looked back at the stone, "Yes. Not too long ago."

It was strange to admit but despite my misgivings, I was lucky that I hadn't lost anyone close to me to the war. My father was an exception, but he was gone before I was even born so I didn't really have a chance to miss him. Kaa-san never told me what happened to him, and I never bothered to pry either.

"I'm sorry to hear," I said softly.

I meant it.

"It's fine," he replied almost too quickly, "there's no point in being upset over something I can't change. I can only look forward now. Maybe in the next war."

How curious.

I shifted my weight to one foot and asked, "What do you mean in  _the next war_?"

There was a moment of silence.

Izuna just continued staring at the stone, "It means I can only look forward to seeing their killers back on the battlefield. I can't go back in time and save my friends—my  _family_. I can only exact vengeance in their honor."

Just like that, he turned away from the stone and said, "It's the only way they won't die in vain," before walking away.

I kept my gaze on the stone a little longer before turning around, the shuriken glistening in the peripheral of my vision.

I kneeled down, picking up the weapon, hearing Izuna's footsteps disappearing off the stone courtyard.

And with all my might, I chucked the shuriken in his direction.

It sliced into the wooden panels of the compound wall, only narrowly missing his head.

Izuna paused, shifting his gaze from the corridor, meeting my gaze.

He looked surprised at first, but that surprise melted and turned into a look of amusement, "Are you satisfied?"

I glared.

Maybe it was irrational and maybe it was out of spite but I didn't give a crap at that point.

"You might've made a decent shinobi in another life," he stated dispassionately. "Your aim isn't half bad."

"Wouldn't know. I was never given the chance to try," I replied, "although I'm glad it turned out that way because that means I wouldn't have ended up an idiot like you."

He frowned, "You should really watch what you say. It might get you killed some day."

" _Vengeance_? You think that's a form of honor?" I snapped, "You think your friends and family want you to honor your death with more death? What kind of stupid, idiotic logic is that?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like  _you_  to understand," he said, "considering the fact you haven't seen a day on the battlefield. You couldn't possibly know what it's like to watch your closest friends die right in front of you."

"I don't have to be an expert to figure out vengeance is stupid. I can read a book and figure that out," I replied. "Why don't you spend some time in the library? It'd help you sort out your deranged, idiotic life philosophies."

"You talk big for a girl who wouldn't survive a day outside the gates," he snapped. "Keep it up and someone might actually kill you someday."

"I think I'll take my chances," I replied, words ringing familiar.

"Go ahead," Izuna seethed. "I'm waiting."

"I mean—do you even know  _why_  we're constantly at war with the Senju clan?" I asked, turning the conversation.

Izuna faltered—hesitated, almost.

Despite being the right hand man to the leader of the Uchiha clan, he was still young.  _Naïve_.

He couldn't have been more then fourteen.

 _Kami-sama_. Fourteen and fighting on the frontlines.

He was a teenager, maybe even a child.

His silence only confirmed my initial suspicions.

"Once upon a time, hundreds—maybe even thousands of years ago, there was a pair of siblings. Their names were Indra and Asura. Indra was stronger in almost every single way but their father—let's call him  _God_ —only saw evil in Indra and decided to put his faith in Asura to carry own his legacy—to be his successor," I explained. "Indra was jealous and founded the Uchiha clan. And for Asura, the Senju clan."

It was a hell of a story.

Some part of our history that I still remembered.

It might've even bordered close to mythology.

I had borrowed the name  _God_  but what I really meant was the  _Sage of Six Paths_.

But God was more fitting and I knew Izuna would never look up this part of our history on his own if I handed everything to him on a silver platter.

"And so, our clans have been fighting ever since," I concluded, "over some stupid,  _ridiculous_  family dispute that happened eons ago. Literally, eons. Stupid when you think about it, isn't it?"

Maybe it was counterintuitive. Maybe I was attacking the wrong person.

"You're perpetuating a vicious cycle of revenge," I said.

It was useless, perhaps.

After all, I threw a shuriken at the head of our second in command without even hesitating.

What if I had hit him?

But that thought dissipated almost as quickly as it surfaced.

Izuna looked like he was going to say something in response, but instead, he vanished.

I blinked.

Suddenly, something sharp ripped across my face, before clinking against the KIA tablet behind me and hitting the floor.

I felt something trickle down my cheek, and I reached up to touch it.

I glanced down to see the shuriken on the ground, with a speck of blood on the razor edge.

My blood.

"You have no idea what it's like to watch people die," he said.

There he was, standing by the KIA stone.

How he managed to get from the corridor to behind me in the blink of an eye—I'd never quite understand.

I tried to process what just transpired in front of me but it was a little too difficult. I didn't have the eye of a shinobi and everything just happened too quickly.

"You understand nothing about war," he said, clenching his fists, "So don't you dare—" he took a deep breath, "—don't you  _dare_  talk about our clan like that again."

And just like that, he vanished.

* * *

I pressed my forehead against the cool, hardwood door of Madara's office.

It was a long day, really.

First, I had my cheeky encounter with Izuna.

And then I spent the rest of the day avoiding my mother, in an attempt to hide the pathetic cut on my cheek. It wasn't anything serious, of course. But it'd be something she'd notice immediately (after all, who could hide a cut like  _this_?) and reprimand me for.

And that was the last thing I needed today.

" _You really need to stop doing that_."

Even Madara's voice on the other side of the door sounded soothing, compared to the hypothetical encounters with Kaa-san that ran through my mind all day.

I opened the door and walked in, placing the bowl of soup on his table before taking my place by the corner of the room, near his bookcase.

He glanced at the bowl before turning his gaze to me, "You have a cut on your face."

 _Obviously_.

Had this been under any other circumstance, I would've made some snarky comment.  _What gave it away—the blood?_

But I wasn't in the mood, so I just affirmed his statement with a simple: "Yep."

His gaze lingered a bit longer. But he didn't look like he really gave a damn so he turned back to the stack of papers on his desk.

I stared out the window behind Madara's desk and said, "I read something about warm weather and how it's supposed to bring out the kindness in people."

"Are you trying to imply something?" He deadpanned.

"No," it was an honest reply, "just thought it might be interesting."

"Well, you thought wrong," he said.

I frowned, "Just trying to make conversation."

" _Try_ , being the emphasized word," he replied.

"You know," I said. "You could really try being nice for a change. I hear that makes life a lot easier."

Madara snorted, "As if I need to make my life easier."

"Keep it up," I told him. "Arrogance really seems to be your forte. No wonder your younger brother takes after you."

"Don't you dare talk about my brother," he stated darkly.

I trailed off, unsure of how I wanted to continue.

It was a bit of forced conversation that turned in the wrong direction and Madara didn't really seem like  _that_  kind of guy so I looked away and closed my eyes.

"You took awfully long waiting outside my door. Longer than usual," he said, changing the subject, "the soup's gone cold."

The soup was the least of my concerns.

"Sorry," I said stubbornly. "I shouldn't have said that about Izuna-sama. It was wrong of me."

With that, I opened the door, taking one last look over my shoulder.

Madara looked like he wanted to say something.

But he clamped his mouth shut, rolled his eyes and went back to his papers.

* * *

I walked to the kitchen, asked Mizuna for a new bowl of soup and placed the untouched bowl in the sink.

She said something exasperatedly about hurrying up and being more careful and I nodded in agreement each time but it was honestly in one ear and out the other.

By the time I left the kitchen with a new bowl of soup, I didn't even remember what she said to me.

Maybe I went too far with Izuna.

Maybe I overstepped my boundaries.

The thing is, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't stop wondering if I was wrong or not.

After all, he was right ( _in a sense_ ).

I'd never seen the terror of the battlefield. I'd never even experienced the loss of a friend—or a family member.

The closest thing to that was my father, and like I mentioned before, that was long before I was even born and it was before I understood what grief really was.

Still, war was a cycle of vengeance—I wasn't wrong about that. But I suppose I wasn't completely right in my zealousness either.

I suppose death was more complex than what I could read from history books.

* * *

As I reached down to open the door to Madara's office—the door opened suddenly.

I was so surprised by the suddenness of it all that the soup bowl slipped out of my hand.

Madara appeared in the frame and caught the bowl with ease, before it could hit the floor, not a drop of liquid spilling out.

Quickly, he slid the bowl onto his desk before grabbing my wrist and leading me away, down the corridor.

"The soup—" I said, stumbling behind him, unable to process the fact that he had his hand wrapped around my wrist, "it'll go cold again if you leave it."

Madara paused. He relented a soft sigh and a mild semblance of a growl.

He released my wrist and walked back into his office and I hurried behind him, waiting in the frame of the open doorway.

He grabbed the bowl of soul and started drinking.

I watched in mild fascination as he gulped down its contents in less than three seconds.

Still stunned by the sudden display, I leaned against the frame of the doorway with my mouth wide open.

"You're going to catch flies that way," he said with a smirk, "come with me."

* * *

We headed through the garden, which stood as a crossroad between the compound and the small forest behind our gates.

I didn't come here often—simply because I didn't really have a reason to.

The small koi fishpond underneath the bridge to the forest was especially lively today, a rainbow of fish coming to greet us with their open mouths as we passed by.

Madara was careful when he tended to the garden.

He always took special care of the flowers and made sure the servants knew what they were doing.

I wasn't really sure why it was so special to him, considering the fact that it had been mostly dead up until he came to power.

But I suppose it might've had something to do with his preference for aesthetics or his  _boredom_  from being away from the battlefield.

I rolled my eyes.

Hopefully, shinobi weren't that simple-minded.

* * *

We were heading towards the forest. Once we reached the edge, I hesitated.

"What is it?" Madara asked, turning to spare me a glance from ahead.

I'd never been in the forest before.

It always stood as somewhat of an omen.

When I was young, if I didn't behave, Kaa-san would threaten to leave me in the forest.

 _There's a devil who takes the souls of children waiting for you_ , she would tell me.

The most unsettling part was probably the fact that I might've still believed her, at this point.

Bear with me.

The thing is, I believe in spirits. Omens.

It's a long story, and perhaps, a story to be told another day.

"I…"

But an omen was just an omen, in the end.

There was no reason to be afraid of something I couldn't comprehend.

So I took a deep breath, walked forward, following Madara's trail.

There were dangers, they said, on the other side of the garden.

Maybe there were. I couldn't tell.

The trees were tall and thick enough to block out the sun, but I suppose, if I looked at this from a different angle, I'd always been the kind of girl who preferred the shade anyway.

I shifted my gaze from the trees to Madara's back.

He was wearing his navy blue robes with the white trim today.

A Uchiha clan insignia etched in the back. A little change-up from his usual attire. He preferred black—that much was obvious to me.

"Do you come here often?" I asked.

"I take a visit before I have to leave for a long mission," he replied.

"Oh," I replied dumbly.

I didn't know what else to say. I had no clue he even had a mission to attend any time soon.

* * *

It didn't take long for us to reach a large gate.

High up, almost as tall as the trees. Of all my years living in the Uchiha compound, I never quite made it this far.

Madara squatted down and stretched out his legs, "You should get ready too."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Before I could really process what he said, he leapt into the air—dozens— _hundreds_  of feet up and landed on the edge of the gate.

I watched in mortification as he glanced back down at me, almost as if he were  _beckoning_  me to come up the same way he did.

Was it really necessary? No.

But this was Madara, after all. So I should've expected the theatrics.

There was a ladder two feet away. But I suppose if I had that same ability, and if I were a shinobi, I'd do the same thing.

I cupped my mouth and took a deep breath before yelling, "You know I hate heights, right? I'll wait down here, thank you very much!"

He shrugged and motioned to his ears.  _I can't hear you_.

I wrinkled my nose and yelled back, "I said—I'm scared of heights!"

"I can't hear you!" He called back. An obvious lie.

He was toying with me.

I shot him a glare.

Slowly, and hesitantly, I reached out for the ladder.

I shut my eyes and ascended, feeling the wind sift through the tangles of my hair.

* * *

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

I could hear Madara's voice, but I kept my eyes shut tight as I continued up the ladder.

 _Nothing to be afraid of my ass_.

If I fell, I'd die. There'd be nothing stopping my impending doom.

"Open your eyes, idiot."

It took me a minute to realize I'd reached the top. Madara had his hand out-stretched, and I took it, finding even footing on the edge of the gate.

"Oh…my."

The view was—

The field was barren.

Beyond the gate, it was empty. The end to the forest was abrupt. It was totally quiet—and it smelled like copper shavings and melted iron.

Like blood.

But the sky was painted beautiful shades of red, orange and purple as the sun dipped into the horizon.

I stared up in mild fascination, wondering if I'd been missing out on the view all this time while perusing the compound or sitting behind my chess pieces in the courtyard.

"Still afraid of heights?" Madara asked with a half-smirk on his face.

I looked at him and tried to suppress the smile forming on my face, "Only stupid people aren't afraid of things that could kill them."

"Oh yeah?" He didn't look amused.

"Yeah," I replied, sticking my tongue out. "That's why stupid people make excellent shinobi."

He glared at me.

I laughed nervously, "I might've...gone too far."

"Idiot," he snapped, flicking me on the side of my head.

I winced in pain. I probably deserved that.

He stared off into the distance, "You do realize you're talking about the supposedly same stupid people who are fighting for you on the front lines."

"I didn't ask them to fight for me," I replied.

"Idiot. If everyone followed what your damn philosophy, we'd all be dead," was Madara's reply.

"Maybe. But that's just hypothetical," I said.

"Don't tell me that's something you don't believe in either," he replied.

I shot him a glare, feeling my face burn up, "O-Of course I believe in hypotheticals! What makes you think I don't?"

He shrugged, sticking a pinky into his ear indifferently, "It'd make sense, considering your other string of stupid philosophies."

"Why write them off as stupid when you don't even bother understanding them?" I asked.

"I could say the same for you," he replied, meeting my gaze.

I decided to ignore his final quip since he posed an interesting point.

Despite my misgivings about war and violence, there was no doubt that my clan was still on the frontlines defending the safety of our family.

At least, that was what Izuna tried to explain to me earlier on in the courtyard.

But I wasn't stupid. I knew it fell behind ulterior motives.

The Uchiha clan was prideful and they were also protecting their namesake and honor under the guise of defense.

When I came to this conclusion, I looked at Madara, wanting to say something.  _I didn't ask you guys to fight for me_.

But when I took a look at his face, I realized he was smiling. He looked  _genuinely_  happy.

So I stayed silent and watched the sun disappear while the skyline turned blue.

* * *

Later on, we returned to the compound and Madara went to attend his meeting with the elders.

I was perusing the compound mindlessly, waiting for him to finish up so I could make sure he ate dinner before going to sleep.

"Senbi!"

I turned my heel and felt my heart flutter as Kaminori appeared at the end of the corridor.

He jogged towards me and flashed a smile.

"What're you doing right now?" He asked.

"Moping," I didn't miss a beat, trying to act cute and putting on a pout before sticking out my tongue, "just kidding. I'm waiting on Madara to finish his meeting."

Before I had to chance to say anything else, he took my hand and said, "C'mon. Let's go."

Had it been under any other circumstance, I probably would've ditched my duties and gone with him.

It was too easy, really.

All he had to do was flash me a half-smile and I'd melt under his gaze.

But there were other things I had to attend to and I feel something deep inside me shift when I came to this realization.

It wasn't anything I had to admit aloud, but…things were different now.

"I can't," I said, trying to mask the disappointment with a semblance of a smile, "maybe later, Kaminori-kun?"

But he seemed to understand.

So he let go of my hand, "Don't fall in love with him, okay?"

I looked at him, shocked that he would even insinuate something like that.

"Senbi," he said, putting on a big smile, "I'm totally joking with you. Lighten up, will you? Could you imagine your mother's reaction?"

"Oh," I laughed, nervously, "I thought you were being serious."

"Absolutely not. Madara's a great leader but," he said and trailed off.

Before I could even picture Kaa-san's reaction, Kaminori reached out his hand and touched my cheek. The cut I'd gotten before had already scabbed.

"But if he did this to you, tell me," the smile on his face vanished almost too quickly, "I'll kill him."


	4. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't die." "I won't."

"We're leaving soon."

Madara's statement was halfhearted—indifferent. As if telling me was some kind of chore.

I blinked twice.

Unsure of whether I should breathe a sigh of relief or be a little remiss at the fact that I would have nothing to do in the following two weeks without him around, I decided to forgo the overreactions and made due with silence.

It seemed to be my only saving grace around him, anyway.

I wouldn't have to see Madara around.

But after reviewing the facts, I decided being around him wasn't too bad at all.

"Another mission?" I asked, "Will you be fighting the Senju Clan?"

He paused for a moment before continuing, "You don't need to worry," his reply was terse.

"I didn't say I was worried."

"From the sound of it, you might've had me fooled," Madara smirked.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I remarked, rolling my eyes. "I have bigger priorities on my mind."

"Like your chess set?" He asked.

Surprised that he even knew I played, I asked, "How'd you know?"

"You're infamous," he replied. "But your success is probably due to the fact that you've yet to find a worthy opponent."

"I've played your brother," I said.

"As I said, you've yet to find a worthy opponent," Madara stated unwillingly.

We entered the garden—the crossroad between the compound and the forest.

A sort of segue between areas, a sharp contrast between civilization and desolation. After I was introduced to the gate, I began to venture here often, usually to appease my boredom.

Flowers were prettier to look at anyway, and I preferred them to the morbidity of shiny hardwood walls and tiled floors.

Madara was careful with his garden, always making sure the flowers were tended to daily—that the koi fish in the pond underneath the bridge were fed, and that there was always someone to care for the more delicate lilacs and lilies when it rained.

"So what kind of mission is it?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me, "How long will you be gone for?"

The corners of his lips tipped to form the faintest smirk, "Do you miss me already?"

Without missing a beat, I shot back, "You  _wish_."

His smirk vanished almost too quickly into a stare of contempt, "Don't flatter yourself,  _idiot_. You're not my type, anyway."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "What's your type?"

"None of your business, really," Madara replied, indifferently. "Not like you could live up to it."

What was  _that_  supposed to mean anyway?  _As if_  I wanted to be his type.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I decided to get back on topic, "So…what mission is it?"

"Not only do you ask too many questions, you have a tendency of asking the same question over and over again," Madara said, "didn't your mother tell you? Leave things up to the imagination. You'll rest easy that way."

"I don't like the idea of letting myself live in an illusion," I stated.

"Then consider yourself cursed for being born in a clan whose main power is  _genjutsu_ ," he didn't miss a beat.

Like I said, reincarnation sounds really nice in theory, doesn't it?

But instead—and perhaps it was a bit childish of me—I stuck my tongue out at him, "So will you see the Senju Clan, or not?"

He resisted the urge to groan audibly, "You really don't know when to give up."

"Nope, I don't."

Some silence passed between us.

"You could really use some color in your office. I mean—look at the flowers in your garden," I said, deciding to change the subject. "Go get some and make a bouquet. You seem like the kind of guy who'd enjoy ikebana."

"Killing flowers for the sake of some temporary aesthetic is stupid," was Madara's terse reply.

"Well, I happen to like flowers," I pointed out with a frown.

"Then you must be pretty damn stupid too."

* * *

"Here, hm?"

Izuna motioned to the lilacs sitting by the bridge with a slight tip of his chin, "I didn't think you'd want to spar in your precious garden."

Looking down at my feet, I avoided eye contact.

I wasn't sure what kind of terms we were still on. For all I knew, he still despised me after our encounter in the corridors the other day.

 _All because of that damn KIA stone_.

Without warning, Madara made a kick for Izuna's head.

Izuna caught the kick easily, "You've gotten rusty,  _brother_."

Fighting had never quite been my style, either.

But I figured that would be the case since I never really had a chance to understand it. Something about  _chakra_  and the  _elements_  just didn't really interest me.

I'd read up on it if I could.

But true to the nature of our clan, most of our techniques were hidden under illusion.

Only those with the  _sharingan_  could truly decipher the truth behind our powers and abilities. Unfortunately, I'd never actually gotten that far.

From what I could see, Madara seemed to be the perfect balance between litheness and power, while Izuna seemed to be more hesitant and  _wary_.

There seemed to be some sort of sibling rivalry, some sort of  _stubbornness_  I couldn't quite make out from the younger brother.

It was easy to see that Madara relied more on his intuition when they met hand-to-hand, while Izuna was more thoughtful, more careful.

Slower, essentially.

Madara's fist met Izuna's jaw and I watched in mild fascination as the first bit of blood spilled into the air.

* * *

By the time the fight was over, Izuna was out of breath.

They might've been equal in all aspects—strength, stamina, and speed. But Madara seemed more veteran. As if he knew how to react precisely.

I didn't want to believe in this idea of god given talent, but he might just be the physical embodiment of it.

 _Yes_ —maybe it was cliché, but it suddenly began to make sense why he was the leader of our clan.

"You'll stare holes into the side of his head if you keep staring like that," Izuna stated.

Maybe a blush was appropriate, but I wasn't really that type of girl to begin with.

I was more surprised by the fact that he'd addressed my presence at all. For a moment, I really thought we were still on rough terms with one another.

When I looked back, I realized Madara hadn't even broken a sweat, which probably meant he was holding back.

 _Also typical of our clan_ , I thought,  _we love showing our strength to the enemy but our love for our kinsman trumps our pride in battle_.

Madara glanced at me, and I looked away.

Then, he placed one hand on Izuna's shoulder and whispered something I couldn't quite hear.

"Let's go," Madara motioned to the forest with a slight nod of his head, "Senbi."

He vanished into the trees while I trailed behind, trying desperately to keep up with his pace.

"You should hurry up," Izuna said, "you're his caretaker now, after all."

I hesitated mid-step, and glanced at the younger brother over my shoulder.

He didn't look upset, which might've been surprising.

But I figured with the  _shinobi_  training he underwent, he was probably taught the value of indifference in the face of conflict.

Another stupid ideology I never quite understood.

Even though I always expected Izuna to be the more reasonable sibling of the two brothers, I was ultimately wrong.

He failed to live up to my expectations, my stupid,  _idiotic_  preconceived notions. And maybe that meant I was the wrong who was wrong in the first place.

"I still owe you from our chess game," he said, "you can ask me anything, you know."

So we would pretend the incident didn't happen. I let the thought linger for longer than I should.

What I originally wanted to know was about Madara's relationship with Hashirama-sama. But that thought eventually expired and I came to the realization that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Not now, at least.

"It's fine," I said, "consider it a debt repaid from the shuriken I threw at your head the other day."

Izuna smirked.

* * *

Madara really did have the upbringings to make him a great leader.

A good, wealthy family. A decent education. A strong front. Physically. And mentally. The halfhearted, don't-give-a-damn attitude that would probably rub people the wrong way.

The kind of attitude he'd need if he wanted to  _survive_  in our clan.

"You're staring," Madara said.

We were standing on top of the gate surrounding the Uchiha territory, and there was a reasonable distance between us.

It made it awkward to converse naturally, and a lot of what I'd say would probably be swept away by the wind, so I kept my mouth shut for the most part.

Quickly, I shifted my gaze from his face to the empty field in front of us.

Madara was still staring off into the distance, where the sun was hitting the horizon, causing the skies to blush a virgin shade of pink.

I was trying to maintain a level of professionalism but I had a tendency to blank out in thought, which probably gave off the impression that I was staring.

But  _still_.

Could he really blame me?

Madara could be dead for tomorrow, for all I knew.

Dead.  _Really_. The word just left a bad taste in my mouth.

And yet, the thought made me want to  _laugh_.

Maybe it was morbid—maybe it was sick. After all, missions these days made no promises of tomorrow. Living was never quite a certainty in our world.

"I was just thinking," I said, "about reincarnation."

"That kind of talk will get you killed," Madara stated.

Pray to the gods, do no wrong to your neighbor, love your family.

Our clan was overtly religious but we didn't integrate it into our daily rituals.

"What do you believe in?" I asked.

"Myself," was his reply.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "That's a stupid answer."

He frowned, "Why? The only person I can depend on is myself."

"What about your brother?"

"Him, too. But I'm far more reliable," he stated.

"Of course you're going to say that about yourself," I replied. "But I meant religiously."

"I meant religiously too."

For the most part, most of our clan members were quiet agnostics and there were few religious fanatics, if any at all.

Yes, the thought of reincarnation was laughable to most—but honestly?  _Myself_? He couldn't think of a better answer than that?

The worst part was, he probably believed it.

"Our generation was cursed with bad timing," I said softly, "all these wars. So many people are dying outside these gates everyday. Do you even remember a time when it  _wasn't_  like this?"

That was the thing.

Maybe Madara thrived in war.

Maybe the battlefield was his stomping ground. The truth is—he certainly could've been written off that way from a first glance.

That's probably how he'd be written when he died.

But at least, he'd be written about. Maybe that was another reiteration of his own religion, his own immortality. Maybe the Madara school of thought wasn't too far from the truth.

"Because I can't," I admitted, unable to mask the minor tremor in my voice.

It was easy to judge him—and maybe that was the mistake I made with Izuna at first.

"Well," he said, "I can."

I smiled a little, looking back at the sky, which had since faded into a deep shade of navy blue.  _Blue_ , like the color of our clan.

I laughed a little.

"What's so funny?" He asked, meeting my gaze.

"It just that," I said, "this is one of the first times we've gotten along."

Madara frowned.

"I'm glad," I admitted softly.

 _Blue_ , with no promises of forever or tomorrows.

"Don't die," I told him.

Madara glanced over—and without hesitation, he replied, "I won't."

"Good," I said. "I'll kill you if you do."

"Duly noted," he replied sarcastically.

Yes, it might've been confidence. Yes, it might've been an act of reassurance.

I never expected someone like Madara to forgo the macho, tough-guy façade in lieu of genuine kindness so I convinced myself it was probably the former.

Still, the fact that he had faith convinced me that I'd see him alive soon enough.

* * *

Kaminori let his bishop hug his line of pawns.

I frowned.

"This is pretty unlike you," he said, motioning to the white pieces he compiled from our game, "is there something on your mind?"

I moved my knight forward, "Just feeling tired today." Not a lie, but not really the truth either.

"Don't think too hard,  _hm_?" He smiled, "It'll ruin your pretty face."

I opened my mouth to say something wry—and it should've come easy to me, really. But it didn't. Instead, I tried to hide my disdain with a smile, "I like thinking."

"I can tell. But it looks like you have something heavy weighing on your mind," he said, shifting his queen forward, "check."

I moved my bishop back, "Well, I do. Question. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Kaminori shifted his queen forward again, "No."

I expected something like this.

Kaminori's thought process was grounded in science and logic.

Although I strived towards the same kind of value, I had a tendency to drift into the obscure.

Call it escapism or some kind of relief in the midst of all this madness—it was something that kept me preoccupied from the realities outside the gate.

I smiled.

 _I think I'm beginning to_ , I wanted to say. But instead, I shifted my knight up and took his queen.

 


	5. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look like hell." "Speak for yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty lillian for the review. :)

5

_Departure_

* * *

Madara kneeled over his tulips.

I think—and maybe I was seeing things—there was something about the way he looked today.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact nature of the change.

Maybe it had to do with the shinobi attire he was wearing. I'd only ever seen him wearing his casual ensemble in the Uchiha compound.

Either way, he looked different. But I still couldn't put my finger on it.

Maybe it was the look in his eye. A slight glint of reassurance.

Confident. Brave.

The poster child for power and war.

From the bench I sat on, I kicked my feet back and forth. A pretty bad habit I picked up.

Kaa-san always reprimanded me for it (something about kicking away all your good fortune and money). But hey, it could've been worse.

"Don't forget to drink water everyday," I said.

Even though I had only a view of his profile, I couldn't miss the sneer on Madara's face as he replied, " _Obviously_."

Biting back a retort, I decided to continue, "And remember to bathe when you can."

A small blush formed on his face.

 _Uchiha Madara_. Feared fighter. Leader of the Uchiha clan.

Unable to talk about hygiene without blushing.

When I realized this, I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Idiot," he snapped, "as if I need you to remind me of such trivial things."

"It's not trivial," I told him with a mock pout. "What if your enemy smells you out?"

"That's not how this works," he said.

"I'm just saying hypothetically," I told him, with a smile.

He smirked and stood up from where he was squatting.

I pursed my lips. I wanted to say something, but I was too distracted by the colorful arrangement of flowers. 

 _His prized possessions_.

For someone who liked to brush things like life and death off as trivial and meaningless, the flowers really could've fooled anyone.

In the end, Madara just never struck me as the kind of person who took to a hobby like this.

After all, he was a killer. A born and raised killer.

A shinobi.

Madara flicked me in the forehead, "See you, idiot."

* * *

"Senbi."

I buried my face into my pillow and tried to ignore the sound of the voice.

Trying desperately to ignore the fact that there were somebody probably towering over me in my most  _vulnerable state_ , I shut my eyes as hard as I could and stifled a groan.

A soft laugh echoed in the darkness, "Senbi."

Still, I kept my eyes shut.

From the dark, I felt someone brush a lock of my hair behind my ear, "You're such a sleepyhead."

Opening one eye cautiously, I realized it was  _Kaminori-kun_.

A soft smile formed on his lips.

He was wearing a plates of armor—his war attire.

From what I could make out, it was still dark outside. I suppose the team was leaving for their mission soon.

He was carrying a lot for someone who was going on a week long expedition.

It took me moment to realize he was wearing his war attire, and not his shinobi attire. Might sound similar, but they were different empirically.

War attire was heavy, covered in plating and armor. Shinobi attire was thinner, more breathable.

It was stealth attire, "Why are you wearing that?" I asked softly.

There was a brief pause.

"When we see each other again," he continued, ignoring my question, "promise me something."

Kneeling down on one knee, he put his face close to mine and pressed his lips against my cheek—something that probably would've made me blush under any other circumstance.

But it was early, and I was tired, and he was being far too cryptic for my taste.

"Give me a kiss back, okay?" Kaminori said.

That was it? That was his request?

With a soft sigh, I nodded into my pillow, "Okay."

* * *

The team left before dawn.

Instead of wasting my time in the courtyard, I decided to peruse the garden, staring at Madara's prized possessions.

"The orchids are dying."

The voice came from behind, and my heart skipped a beat.

I turned around and spotted Izuna in the distance—standing a few feet away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, "Madara can't keep them alive, no matter what he tries. They've become sort of a nuisance, really."

At this, I shifted my gaze to the wilted purple flowers in the smaller, less obtrusive corner of the garden, "Well. Orchids are notoriously known for having difficult upkeep."

Izuna walked forward and took a seat next to me on the bench, hands still in his pockets as if he didn't give a damn.

Leaning into his seat, he stretched his legs out.

 _Shouldn't you be more worried about your brother_? I wanted to ask him.  _He's off on a dangerous mission—a mission he wouldn't even talk to me about. And you're just lounging around like it's another normal day_.

But instead, I asked, "Why does Madara-sama care so much about these plants?"

Izuna shrugged halfheartedly, "Beats me."

I wondered if he ever bothered trying to understand his older brother.

From what I could tell, there was some strange resentment between the two. Nothing malicious, but maybe some jealousy.

Not that I knew—not that I really  _wanted_  to know. There were some things I probably shouldn't pry into.

"Hey," Izuna stated, suddenly. "Answer me this. Do you think it's easy to kill someone?"

The wind sifted through flowers, and they bowed their heads to the breeze.

The question had come out of nowhere.

Sometimes, I really couldn't figure out what Izuna was thinking.

He was unlike his elder brother—he never wore his heart on his sleeve.

I didn't know what kind of answer he was looking for, but it occurred to me that maybe he was looking for perspective. Not that someone like me would change anything for someone like  _him_.

Izuna was stubborn—that much I knew.

"I don't know if easy is the right word," I said, "but it's your job. And it's something you have to live with."

"A good political response," Izuna replied, "but it's a simple yes or no question."

The thing is—I had no idea what it was like to be in a position of power like that.

 _How_  would it be to stare someone in the eye and take their life away? To take their agency away? To strip them of everything they had? What kind of butterfly effect would that entail? What sort of damage would it incur upon their family?

"It must be pretty hard," I said slowly, "to live with yourself."

Izuna sighed softly.

Maybe it wasn't the answer he was expecting, but it was probably something he knew to be true.

Like most shinobi in our clan, he must've had a coming to terms with himself about his chosen profession at least once.

And when he first started, he probably didn't know it was going to be this hard either.

"Death is an inevitability," he said. "Shinobi just choose to die in action."

A probably roundabout way of coping with his own actions.

 _Everyone dies_.

Well, now he's just stating the obvious. But living as someone who doesn't quite appreciate the art of war, it sounds like a load of bullshit to me.

Izuna relented another sigh, "You should talk to your mother."

Slightly confused by the sudden request, I tensed up, "Excuse me?"

The look on his face might've said it all.

* * *

With all my might, I ripped open the door to Kaa-san's room, ripping it off the hinge with a loud bang.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" I snapped.

Completely ignoring the look of horror from the other young women in the room sitting around the dining table, I walked up beside her.

Kaa-san, calmly, took a deep sip of her tea, seemingly unperturbed by my outburst.

As if she didn't have a single goddamn care in the world.

A polite smile formed on her lips and she asked the three young women to excuse themselves—and they left.

But they barely crossed my mind as I took a seat across from Kaa-san at the table.

"Imprudent as usual," she said with a frown. "Maybe try knocking next time before you decide to blow the door down with your elephant feet."

I didn't even blush.

"You asked the  _elders_  to kill you?" I asked, in complete and utter disbelief, "You're dying, and you're not even going to try and fight it? You just—you just  _asked_  them to kill you?"

And for the first time, in a long time, her features softened.

Not really sure when I started noticing it, but the deep wrinkles etched into her face became more and more apparent. Despite the snappiness and sass she wore like a badge of honor, I wondered when the old age hit her so hard.

"You're a late blossom," she said quietly.

Other girls my age had young mothers.

But Kaa-san was old—she had me when she was in her forties, which made me what they call a late blossom.

Why didn't she ever tell me?

I knew she was ill, but I never knew it was this bad. Did she ever plan on telling me at all? Or was she just planning to keep me in the dark until she passed away? Until she was just  _gone_?

A sad smile formed on her lips, but she stayed quiet.

"You told me you were ill," I bit my lower lip, trying desperately to hide tremor in my voice.

My face was heating up, my vision was becoming increasingly blurry, and I couldn't breathe through my nose. I was on the bring of tears—that much, I knew.

But I couldn't even tell Kaa-san the one thing I wanted to tell her the most.

 _I love you, Kaa-san_.

Strands of gray hair poked out from her short, dark hair. Her eyes looked tired.

There were shadows hiding underneath that I never really made out before. She'd probably seen things in her time. There were probably stories she'd never told me. She'd probably had her fair share of pain and anguish.

"You're so much like your father," she said softly.

I blinked, the tears welling up in my eyes, "My father?"

Kaa-san reached out and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear, "His name was Miyabi."

* * *

She passed away two days later.

The last thing she talked to me about was Tou-san, but even then, most of what she said went way over my head.

I thought about her constantly.

The thing is—maybe this was the kind of destiny Kaa-san wanted to create. To control her own agency and how she'd die.

Stupid.  _Stupid_.

But as someone who doesn't believe in fate, this was the sort of result that shouldn't have bothered me so much.

I  _hated_  the idea that people had to abide by rules formed by some unknown entity. I  _hated_  that people couldn't take responsibility for their own actions—their own choices—their own mistakes.

I  _hated_  that they liked to chalk it up to some stupid, idiotic god who probably didn't give half a damn about them.

Destiny wasn't real, in the end.

It was just some screwed up fairytale adults spun so they could justify their mistakes.

* * *

Her funeral took place a week later.

I was a coward, and I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed and attend. Even with the eulogy I had written, I didn't think I could do Kaa-san justice.

In the end, what I said wouldn't matter.

 _The selfish brat daughter of Kiyo,_ they would say.

And that was okay with me.

For a clan that learned to cope with all their decisions in the wrong way, I didn't expect them to give me a break. I didn't deserve it, anyway.

Izuna came to visit every once in a while.

We didn't really bring up Kaa-san and what transpired between her and elders. We didn't even bring up how he knew about her plan.

Despite the thin sheet of ice we were treading around each other, he seemed to have taken a stance reserved of judgment.

Probably because he understood what it meant to be in such a close proximity to death.

Chiaki, one of the kitchen girls, took pity on me and brought me food whenever she could. Not that I had much of an appetite anyway.

But she was good natured and kind, so I tried my best to put on a good front for her.

* * *

Madara's team returned slowly, and gradually—not all at once.

First, it was around a dozen of them. They appeared near the gate when the sun peaked over the horizon. Then, two or three arrived in the late afternoon. By nighttime, almost everyone was back.

Most of our clan came to greet them. It was a sort of tradition to honor the people brave enough to take certain expeditions.

I made the decision to come out in the late afternoon, taking a seat on a bench nearby the gate.

Hours passed by.

When the last batch of shinobi came through the gate, almost everyone was gone. I decided to continue waiting, anyway.

At this point, I didn't have much to lose.

* * *

When midnight came around, Madara appeared.

He stood at the entrance, his knapsack thrown over his shoulder.

I caught his gaze, and he looked at me, pausing in his steps.

I stood up.

Something looked different about him. Maybe his demeanor, or maybe it was the way he was holding himself. As if something had shifted, and completely  _changed_.

He was almost unfamiliar to me.

The shadows under his eyes were deeper—darker. And there was his halfhearted tepidness that seemed almost unlike him.

I wanted to open my mouth and say something.

 _Anything_ , really. But he was yards and yards away and I was just some stupid, stupid girl who didn't know her place in the clan—too cowardly to understand half of what was happening around me.

I ran.

It occurred to me that Kaminori was still missing. That he hadn't returned with the others.

 _When we meet again, give me a kiss_   _back, okay_?

When I arrived in front of him, my first instinct was to welcome him back.

But.

He had cuts all over his body, some of them deeper than others. Some of them hadn't even closed completely.

His attire was stained with blood, and I came to the slow realization that it might not have been his own blood.

Maybe I should've expected something like this. After all, this was  _Madara_  we were talking about.

I'm not sure what really compelled me to do it.

Maybe I was still dazed from everything that'd transpired over the past few weeks.

"You look like hell," I told him softly.

Madara stiffened visibly, but then, he relaxed, "Speak for yourself."

How typical of him.

 _I'm glad you didn't die_  I wanted to say, but maybe it was the setting, or something about the stars, or the way he looked tonight—I decided to keep the sarcasm to myself.

"So can you tell me what your mission was?" I asked him, "Now that it's over?"

Madara frowned, "It's not over."

I cocked my head to the side.

But there was just silence—followed with more silence.

I narrowed my eyes, "Where's Kaminori-kun?"

For the first time since I met him, Madara looked uncertain.

**Author's Note:**

> Migrating this from my other account :)


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